


Hell Bond & Heaven Bound

by DeathxReader_otp



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Alastors friends call him Al, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Bisexual Female Character, Charlie goes by Charlotte, Demon Charlie, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mentioned Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Minor plot tweaks, More will be added, Nice Alastor, Slow Burn, Swapped AU, Throw a cross at Charlotte, Vox (Hazbin Hotel) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathxReader_otp/pseuds/DeathxReader_otp
Summary: It's a swapped AU with a couple of important plot tweaks.Charlotte is notorious for being a demon overlord and fabled to be the only demon in hell to be able to permanently kill a demon with her bare hands. So when she shows up on Alastors front doorstep after he got in a fight with a reporter there is nothing but trouble brewing.Important Plot marks as notes during story.
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne & Vaggie
Comments: 31
Kudos: 286





	1. The introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Alastors from a family of mortals who have claims on the demon realm, like makeshift nobility. There is where he gets the backup funding from his family and his job. He died and was claimed by his house but he's more like his mother ( who went to heaven ) at heart and was screwed by circumstance and his attempts to survive.  
> He died at age 32.  
> Charlie is around only 200 years younger than hell itself, being of of the oldest living demons. Is also the most powerful demon in hell, only beaten by her parents.

Vaggie witnessed many harsh realities in her time above, meaning she was not, by any means, expecting to be pleasantly surprised when she was sent down below. In a way, she wasn’t, the only real exception to that was crammed into the corner of his seat, peering out the window with big sad eyes. 

Yes, although taken aback once, it was not a recurring issue. The absolute bitch sitting across from her that was playing with the window could attest to that. 

Angel, in more ways than one, was not pleasant. 

For some time, she dreaded that she would never meet a man that she could actually befriend. But then Alastor waltzed into her life with his doe eyes and his gleeful grin and she could put that worry to rest. 

But Angel was a testament to why that worry was there in the first place. Only after about three fucking minutes of glaring holes into his head did he finally notice her. 

She narrowed his eyes at him.

“What,” he shrugged.

“What?” Vaggie growled, leaning forward in her seat, fingers digging into the leather.

“What were you doing,” she yelled, flailing her clawed hands, then tugging on her silver hair. 

Angel sighed, leaning his brow against his hand, “I owed my girl buddy a solid, isn’t that a redeeming quality? Helping friends with stuff,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. 

Vaggie’s grip on her hair tightened as she glowered at him. 

“Not with turf wars that result in territorial genocide!”

“Eh, you win some you lose a few...hundred,” he chuckled, studying his nails. 

He leaned forward again, messing with the window, “It wasn’t that bad anyway.”

Only to stop as a knife flew out, nearly taking his fingers with it. 

He glanced at her, she growled at him. 

“Please, it’s pointless to quarl now,” called a static-y voice, both heads snapped towards Alastor. 

His doe eyes were soft and pleading as he set his hand down on the seat. 

“What’s done is done and cannot be undone,” he said with a small sigh, fingers toying with the cuff of his jacket that had been unceremoniously torn off while his squabble with Mr. Trench. 

“You sound like a white mom's kitchen,” Angel scoffed from the background, making him wilt slightly. 

Alastor leaned onto the door once again, instead of seeing the hellish sky he imagined the beautiful sunset against the horizon from his past.

A sky that he would reach for from his first moment, to his last, and even now, he mourned. 

Silence filled the car as the road to the shabby estate gifted to him by his grandfather upon his arrival. 

It was humble, he’d always like to think. Yes, a humble hotel for sinners who wish to be part of the sky. 

* * *

Alastor sat heavily on a couch, leaning his head onto his hands. 

Angel, scratched his side as he looked around the lobby once again, opting towards the mini-fridge that rested in the corner. He sent a small bird flying at the crazy demon bitches way when her head was turned with a chuckle.

He swung around, cocking his hip to the side and stipping the popsicle. Spotting the strawberry twink he grinned.

“So, where’s the band, ya’ know, for all the wayward souls,” he waved his treat in a wide arch, no response. 

He almost felt bad, chuckle becoming force then trailing off as the other demon walked away. 

* * *

Alastor's smile stayed in place for the most part, at the very least he could lay claim to that.

Deciding that moping was worth nothing he shed his jacket and began humming a tune, grabbing a broom to dance along with as he filled the heavy silence. 

He smiled at Vaggie, who was tucked away into the sofa at the far side. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her eyes downcast but nonetheless sent a smile back. 

He was glad that he met the demoness, she was wrathful and cruel at times but they were good friends. And she was the only supporter he had from the get-go, something that he can’t say could be replaced all that easy.

It was the two of them that worked together to build this humble building to something worth living in, and it was the two of them that strove towards the same goal. 

His heart warmed slightly at the prospect of having a friend, even in hell. Humming louder now, he swept the broom across the floor in an arch, tapping his shoes to a mental beat. 

Until the broom snapped in half.

He threw the pole to the floor, backing up hastily as it began to vibrate, then shake, soon it was rattling hard enough to catch everyone's attention. 

The watched in muted fascination as the broom rearranged itself, wood changing to crimson metal, bristles turning to a glass apple. 

The ~~broom~~ staff straightened, then shot into the darkest corner of the room where a hand caught it. 

Wrapped around the staff where fingers pale as moonlight, tipped with tar-black talons. A Cheshire smile formed in the eerie darkness, wide and sinister, sharp ivory teeth glinted against the dull torchlight. 

And out of the darkness stepped a woman, her skin was as white as snow which accented rosy cheeks Beautiful mahogany horns curled from her hairline, golden hair flowed down her back in graceful waves. It was her eyes, milky white surrounded by crimson, that showed that she was, in fact, a demon.

And the sinister grin, she let her eyes drifted silently over the gawking faces, grinning wider with every second. 

“It seems I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Alastor stood frozen for only a moment before falling to one knee and bowing his head. 

“You’re majesty, welcome,” he struggled to keep his voice even as he felt footsteps approach him. 

Vaggie did the same, bowing low and mumbling a welcome. 

He could already hear sirens going off inside his head left and right, a demon as powerful as she taking notice of him could mean nothing but chaos. 

Cool glass glanced over his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine as he stood, looking her in the eyes.

Her slitted pupils narrowed as she moved forward, her hand snaking out to grab his chin, tar-black nails digging into his skin and pulling him lower.

“Back the fuck up you pompous fire breathing bitch,” growled a feminine voice and from the corner of his eye, he could see Vaggie level a spear at her chest. 

“My my, where are my manners,” she crooned, letting his face go with a tap on the cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, how rude of me,” she strode past them, walking seemingly on an invisible staircase and sat down in the middle of the air, crossing her legs.

“I saw your little… fiasco on the web and here I am,” she announced, spreading her arms wide and dropped her staff on Angels head, who had been waving his arms underneath her. 

“THUD.”

“OW.”

* * *

Angel rubbed his head, an annoyed expression resting on his face and sat down next to Vaggie. Leaning in he asked, “What’s the deal with doll face?” 

She turned to him, shocked.

“Are you serious, you’ve been here longer than I have,” she exclaimed.

He stared boredly.

She rolled her eyes, “The Princess of Hell.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, leaning back, “not big on politics.”

She scoffed, “ Hell is ruled by Lucifer, or more commonly known as Satan, and his wife Lilith since the beginning of time. They had a child, her name was Charlotte, the demon standing in front of us.”

Vaggie narrowed her eye, “ She’s been one of the strongest and most feared demons for the past millennia. Notorious for her ‘games’ and genocides, she does it all for kicks. If we get involved with her, there is nothing we can do to stop whatever she has in store. And THAT will be the end of us.”

Angel gwafed, “ She looks like a Dollface pinup.”

“Well, I don’t trust her.” She said, crossing her arms.

* * *

The staff flew back into her hand as she jumped down, her long coattails fluttering behind her. Landing lightly she straightened her bow tie, Alastor chuckled nervously at the glint in her eyes.

“So, my dear, what are you implying,” his fingers tugged on the corner of his undervest as the woman in front of him stared intently.

“I’m _implying_ that I am willing to be your first sponsor, a partner, you could say, in this endeavor.”

Alastor's eyebrows hit his hairline at her proposal, of all things this was by far the most suspicious.

“So you believe sinners have a shot at redemption?”

Her grin turned to one of mocking.

“ Well it's a curiosity, never in all my years have I thought someone would want to reach heaven. You can color me intrigued,” she leaned heavily on her staff, jutting out her hip. 

“After all, who wouldn’t want to see the land above,” Alastor felt another chill run down his spine at her words. 

He opened his mouth, only to be cut short by an arm gripping his and pulling him away. Vaggie looked him in the eye frowning, “You know you can’t trust her, right? She was never mortal like you or I, Alastor. She was born and raised down her and she’s practically as old and powerful as it!”

They both looked over at the demoness who was studying painting, smirk still hanging on her black lips. 

Alastor smiled softly, putting his hand on her shoulder, “I know she is dangerous dear, I’ve been here longer than you. But she might just be the endorsement we need, she seems genuinely interested in what we are doing, even if it's for her own amusement.”

“This isn’t a good idea, you shouldn’t make a deal with her,” she warned again.

“I grew up in the darker side of New Orleans in the ’20s, dear, I know a thing or two about making deals with voodoo,” he scoffed playfully. 

He walked over to the Princess, who’s smile grew again.

“So, it’s a deal,” she stuck out her hand with a swirl of darkness that threatened to consume everything around them. Alastor barely kept enough wits about him to gently push her hand down. 

“As lovely as a handshake would be, dear,” he said, a strained grin on his face. 

“I’d like this in paper and ink,” with a snap of his fingers, Alastor brought forth a parchment that was covered in elegant cursive. 

A pen in one hand and paper in the other he smiled at the demoness who smiled right back.

Shaking her head, she said, “No need for such formalities, it’s a royal promise.”

With that, she snapped her fingers and the paper disappeared in a plume of smoke. 

“So,” she said, swerving her head for side to side, “it seems that some accommodations are in order.”

Alastor followed her line of sight, seeing the dust collecting on the furniture and the dreadfully empty front desk almost made him cringe. 

With a snap of her fingers, two forms appeared in front of him, one was petite, scarcely reaching above his knee while the other was about a foot shorter than him. 

“Hi, I’m Nifty,” called the shorter one, a ‘cyclops’, he thought. Her small head took in the scene, short hair bobbing as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Oooooh, I see why Ms. Charlotte asked of me, it’s so sulky here,” she scurried off, duster that she seemingly pulled out of nowhere in her hand.

Alastor turned to the second figure, a cat-like demon, he wore a top hat and a suit with bright red wings that stood out against his gray fur. A distasteful frown was on his face as he eyed the hand Alastor had stuck out for him, turning to the Princess, “Whaddya want from me now lady,” asked the man, Alastor scarcely avoided being smacked by his wings. 

“Well, dear Husker,” she said evenly, “I need you to man the bar,” she pointed a pale finger and as said, there was a bar. 

The cat grumbled and walked behind the counter, plucking a bottle off the shelf and downing half of it in an instant. 

Vaggie stepped in front of the bar, crossing her arms dramatically.

“No, no absolutely not, we are supposed to be _discouraging_ sin!”

“No,” yelled Angel, body slamming the smaller demoness and glaring at her.

He pointed to the bar, “We are not getting rid of _this._ ”

She growled at him once again and slunk away.

“Well,” the Princess brought her eyes to Alastor's once again, “I will see you soon, partner.”


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse in Charlotte and Als home lives and thoughts behind closed doors. 
> 
> Now I have 2 friends on my back to keep writing this so it seems that you can expect more updates in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a lot of song-based chapters, a lot of them will be Tom Lehrer's works. If you don't know him, look him up and listen to some of his songs. ( The one that suits normal Alastor the most is The Hunting Song ). Musical numbers galore. I'll list all the songs at the beginning and end.
> 
> We All Go Together When We Go ~ Tom Lehrer

Charlotte hummed lightly as the double doors slammed behind her, muffling all coming from within the  _ hotel.  _ She stood outside for a moment, buzzing excitement filled her limbs as she lay her eyes upon the building once more. 

Such a small, unassuming place it was, to think she would have passed it on the street without a glance only made her more pleased that she got to it first. Turning she began down the street, Razzle and Dazzle dutifully falling in step behind her. 

Charlotte was lucky indeed that she was the first to spot the potential of this demon lad's little  _ project, _ not only the prospect of demons redeeming themselves hilarious as it is but the thought of how it could actually work in her favor if she played her cards correctly sent a shiver down her spine.

It was laughable that a soul that was well over 100 years old, spending most of that time in hell, could still have such a silly dream. A once in a century happening that she thankfully caught before it got ground to bits.

With her empty hand, she snapped her fingers as she walked, a nifty trick in getting from point A to point B as fluidly as possible. 

Her steps did not falter as the concrete under her heels turned to marble and the dirty streetside turned to towering crimson walls adorned with grand portraits. 

With a flick of her wrist, the door to her room flew open and she strode in. 

Wordlessly she undid her suit, shedding the jacket, then the trousers until the rest came off as well. Once done she slipped into a silk nightgown and reached for a brush, running it through her hair as she sat at her vanity. 

Her two butlers came into the room one holding a bottle of white wine while the other held a glass. Silently, they poured the wine into the cup and handed it to her which she took gratefully.

She grasped the stem lightly as she set a vinyl onto the record player. 

A small smile graced her lips as the music began. 

Drifting to her bed she sighed, “I should not have discarded my last lover so quickly,” she said as she swirled the liquid.

“Things are getting dreadfully boring whilst being all alone,” Charlotte said aloud to the empty room. 

She took a long drink from her glass, leaving a dark glossy print on the pristine crystal. 

Although she was not  _ that  _ sorry for discarding of her last lover, she was much too talkative in bed, loud and wild. Nothing that suited Charlotte's taste well. 

Regardless of the rumor that she ate all of her former lovers that was simply not true, some she left behind while others she bid farewell. It was only a select few that angered her enough to warrant such treatment.

She sighed through her nose and pulled a book from her nightstand, it was one she had read in the past. Flipping to a random page she let her mind drift to her new pet,  _ Alastor. _ Such a doll that one was, it was almost too good to be true. 

As a being born in hell she had never met true good, never had there been uncorrupted purity that has crossed her pass. Shivers ran through her body as she remembered the look of hope in the boys' doe eyes. 

It was delicious, only a taste left her aching for more. Charlotte couldn’t help by sympathizing for those sent here for hunting the innocent, she only wished that she could do the same. 

‘Would it be like that upon earth or in heaven,’ she mused to herself, taking another sip of wine, innocents as far as the eye could see, joy, hope, glee, all the things she had never witnessed down in hell. A hum grew in the back of her throat at the thought of it. 

With another swig, she drained her glass and set it down on her night table. Charlotte lifted the needle from the record, letting it spin silently she shifted it, setting it down the sound of what she’d assumed was a church bell rung and violins began to play. 

Sitting back and picking up her newly filled glass she smirked as the man started to sing. 

“When you attend a funeral

It is sad to think that sooner o'

Later those you love will do the same for you”

A favorite of hers, Tom Lehrer, although admittedly on the younger side of the spectrum his music never failed to amuse. She could only hope that she would get to meet him in person when he croaked. She might just give him a seal of immunity, it was not often when a mortal caught her attention for anything more than bloodlust. 

  
  


“Not to mention other adjec-

Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do

(But don't you worry.)

No more ashes, no more sackcloth

And an armband made of black cloth

Will some day never more adorn a sleeve

For if the bomb that drops on you

Gets your friends and neighbors too

There'll be nobody left behind to grieve”

Charlotte hummed merrily to the tune, she could only scarcely relate as being the one who was dropping said metaphorical bombs but none the less the story being told as a whole made her shine with delight. 

“And we will all go together when we go

What a comforting fact that is to know

Universal bereavement

An inspiring achievement

Yes, we all will go together when we go”

“On the contrary, what about those who were never there in the first place,” she asked aloud, addressing no one in particular as she took another sip of wine. All things considered, it was in poor taste to love this song as much as she did, in the same way for it to be in poor taste that a loveless man could favor a woman's song of love. 

“What a petty things humans guilt themselves for,” she purred, dismissing the thought and running her talons across Razzle and Dazzles heads who were both nuzzled against her pale legs. 

A distant explosion caught her attention, Charlotte watched as an inferno flickered just below the demonic horizon, her face unassuming as she peered through her balcony window. 

Finally, noticing that she missed the last verse, Charlotte let her eyes fall shut and leaned her head against the satin pillows and listened. 

“Oh we will all fry together when we fry

We'll be french fried potatoes by and by

There will be no more misery

When the world is our rotisserie

Yes, we will all fry together when we fry”

  
  


She raised her glass, grin on her face, “ We will all fry together when we fry.”

* * *

Alastor knew quite well that he had gotten himself in a royal pickle. 

Lifting his jacket over his shoulder he strode to the car in the front lot, walking past the shadowy wisp of a driver he opened the door and stepped inside. Tossing the jacket lightly beside him he let he struggled to keep the smile on his face. 

It seemed all went to hell ( hah ) when that pesky reporter happened to get too close with his microphone. It all spiraled downwards when punches were thrown and it was true chaos when the man pulled out a blowtorch. 

Of course from that point on Alastor had no other choice to disembowel him but it still wasn’t pleasant. He in his true form on the picture show was not exactly inviting no matter how long he spent establishing otherwise. 

He pondered this for a while before the car screeched to a stop in front of a looming mansion, pillars of dark jagged wood adorned the grand sloping roof. 

Alastor took a moment in the car to shift his appearance. During the day when he was out and about, he left only his cornea red and had his horns shrink into small twigs that nuzzled between his ears. But when returning to the manor it was simply disrespectful to stay in such a mellow state. 

Shifting was a very strange feeling in the way there was not much feeling at all, the only indication of his horns curling and branching outwards was the heavy feeling atop his head. As for his eyes, they were now varying shades of crimson that stood starkly against the darkening gray of his skin. His teeth darkened, becoming significantly sharper than before. With a snap of his fingers, the tatters suit that he wore moments ago shifted to a maroon pinstripe long coat with a collar that dug into his neck, forcing his head up. 

When all was set and done Alastor reached for the door and stepped out, waving his hand at the shadow to bring the car around the back as he strode forward. 

The doors swung open for him and across the threshold stood a demon with dead eyes who politely took Alastors coat.

“Master requests your presence at dinner, my Lord,” said the butler.

Alastor’s grin widened as he hefted his microphone and pushed it under the man's jaw, bringing his eyes to Alastors.

“Smile, my good fellow, you’re never fully dressed without one,” He could feel the grin on his face widening at the glint of fear in the man's eyes. 

The butler smiled, Alastor knew well it was out of fear, not joy. But he did not ask for a joyful smile so he let it go, pulling his staff away tucking it back into the space between dimensions. 

Turning the corner from the lobby he began towards the spiraling staircase. Padding up the stairs Alastor studied the faces of the walls, generation upon generation of portraits adorned them. Regal eyes seemed to mock him as he strode through the hallway, a legacy that has hung over his head for his whole life. Even when he was unaware that there even was a legacy to mock him.

From every  _ lesson, _ his father taught him to ever prayer he was forced to say it was all leading to where he was now. A demon stuffed in a suit regretting all that lead him to damnation in the first place. But truly the most terrible part was how he had sealed his own fate, some saw it as destiny, but he could only see it as sheer bad luck. 

Alas, it was not luck that level the gun at his head and pulled the trigger, and it was not luck that left the small x in the middle of his forehead. 

Turning on his heel he looked to the unassuming doorway, one he had laid claim to many years ago. Swiftly he pulled a key from his belt look and slid it into the lock, with a click he twisted the knob and slid into the room. Closing the door behind him swiftly, he loosened his tie and cuffs. Perching on the corner of his stool he plucked a piano notebook from his drawer and set it down on the piano, his fingers lay on the keys lightly. 

Alastor felt a twinge as he silently stared at the ivory keys, curling his fingers and pushing down, a single note filled the air. He began to play, slowly at first, wary of his long nails and how they would slip across the smooth keys but soon enough the rhythm came to him. 

First the classics, then jazz, and everything that he could remember, he played. 

The flow was only interrupted by the tolling of the evening bell. 

He stood from his seat, smoothing his suit and patting down the bumps and rumples before turning on his heel, meeting the demon that waited silently on the other side of his door. 

Wordlessly they strode through the halls and to the large dining room doors.

Right on cue, they swung open showing a long narrow table that spanned across the room, on one side was an empty plate while the other was a man. 

He was tall and lanky, in his early fifties and chin pointed high under the well-tailored suit his tar-black eyes caught own Alastors red ones and the grin that split across his face could have mirrored his own if not the golden canines that were longer than the rest. 

“Alastor my dear boy, do sit down and have dinner with me,” he kept his hands neatly tucked away but bowed his head at the empty seat.

“Lovely to join you for dinner Grandfather Joseph,” Alastor chirped, taking his seat and tucking his napkin into his lap.

The space between the two was just enough to give significant distance while not hindering the conversation in the slightest, Alastor stared at his grandfather and he stared back. 

“So, my good boy, how is your project faring,” asked Joseph, breaking the silence.

‘There it is,’ Alastor thought, his smile did not waver but inside he cringed at the question. 

“Oh, that,” he asked, waving his hand in front of his wine glass as the maroon liquid filled it. 

“It’s going quite well actually, better than I could have hoped,” he stated letting a little smugness slip into his voice. Almost regretting it as the smile on his grandfather's face strained a bit.

In truth Alastor was amazed by Joseph's flexibility, it had been nearly a century since Alastor was sent to hell and yet there was very minimal strain put onto his shoulders. Yes, Joseph gave him a home to live in and a building to play with and ask very little in return. He always stated that Alastor was his favorite grandchild, and to top it off, he was not his only grandchild. 

Yes, all of the King line was accepted into the family and put to work under the prestigious name. Accept for Alastor, who co-owned a nightclub which he sang at regularly to bring in revenue. He could assume he caught his grandfather's favor by the extra bills he would bring to the name but it seemed that money was nothing of concern for the old demon. 

“Oh really,” the man asked, leaning forward, “how so?”

He had to squish the excitement in his voice when he spoke again, “It seems we have our first partner and experiment-e, by all means, we can open soon enough with some renovations.” 

The man across from him raised his eyebrows as Alastor took a sip of his wine. 

“And who might this sponsor of yours be?”

Alastor's grin widened a notch as he caught the older man's eyes.

“Well Grandfather dearest she would be none other than Charlotte Magne,” Alastor could practically feel the shock come from the older man in waves, his tar-black eyes widened and his smile shrunk considerably. 

Alastor almost felt proud of himself. 

Regaining his composure quickly Joseph regained his smugish grin, “That’s simply amazing my good lad! You bring such luck to the King name.” 

He raised his glass at Alastor who raised his own in a toast.

“To the Kings,” they said in unison. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King is Alastor's family name.


	3. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I should be doing: Studying for finals.  
> What I am doing: this. 
> 
> As an apology, I drew them switched. And yes, my drawing is better than my writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance for the awful writing but I'm tired. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome!!!
> 
> https://whoopdy-do-fuck-you.tumblr.com/post/189526247645/good-al-evil-charlotte

Alastor had always been a morning person, so much so, in fact, he would wake up at 5 sharp every day like clockwork. Even in hell, he was still stirred from sleep at odd hours of the morning. With this burden came the gift of time when the sun was still away and all of those lonesome sinners were stumbling back into the nooks and crannies from which they came. 

It was the only time Alastor could find any semblance of peace down under but of course, with peace came reflection and that was a whole can of worms he did not want reopened. 

That was how he was here now, sliding a key into the manner doors and slipping inside without a sound. 

But unlike the many mornings before the lobby was flooded with light as a small form buzzed across the room almost spastically. 

It seemed that he was beaten to the punchline.

The form turned, a single large amber eye framed by heavy lashes met his own as the demoness,  _ Niffty _ , noticed his presence. 

“Oh, I didn’t notice you there! I never see any early risers, it’s a real treat that you’re here,” she scuttled over to his side, duster in hand and smile on her small face. 

“Why I couldn’t agree more, my dear, it’s dreadfully dull with nobody around,” Al hummed at the small demoness enjoying her quick nod of agreement. 

“I was looking at the second floor and it was simply tragic,” Niffty said again, scurrying off to pluck a moth from a lamp, “nope nope nope! A clean home a clean head as I always say,” she said, plucking the moth's wings from its small body.

“Sooo,” she drawled, amber eye flicking from the man to the moth, “I decided to spruce it up,” she ended with a hum, discarding the bug in a waste bin that wasn’t there a moment ago. 

The wendigo grinned widely at the buzzing imp a warmth filled his chest as his eyes fluttered across the spotless room, “Why darling, I believe you just made my day,” crooned striding towards the elevator.

“Well, I’m off to wake the other,” he called, “it is going to be quite a big day for us all.” 

He swept into the staff wing, a pep in his step as he turned to face the narrow hallway way and snapped his fingers.

Bombing swing music swept across the wing, filling every room with chipper music. A grumble and curses called from two rooms at the other side of the room. He stood by as crashes sounded from one room, then the slamming of the door as Vaggie stepped out snarl on her face and spear in hand.

Her face dropped as she spotted Alastor at the other end of the hall, walking towards her with a grin on his face and a microphone in his hand. 

He leaned forward against the mic, “Good morning my dear, so good to see you out and about,” the static in his voice buzzed loudly as he greeted her. 

“Alastor, it’s 6:16 in the fucking morning,” Vaggie stated as calmly as she could although she could feel her fingers curling in the fabric of her nightgown as she stared the man down.

His grin only widened at her words and he leaned in and tapped her nose with his gloved finger, “Now now Vaggie my dear! Swearing so early in the morning is no way to start the day.”

She smacked away his hand and with a sigh turned back to her room. 

“I’ll be down in twenty minutes,” the demoness murmured, the door shutting behind her. Humming once again he turned down the hall walking past the cat-like demon who murmured something unintelligible as he practically fell out of the room. He stopped and offered a hand to the fallen man, smile not failing as the demon ignored it and got up with a dirty look. 

Nodding his head politely he made his way down the hall, past the lobby, and into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was grand indeed, it was built for an audience much larger than just the three that occupied the place. ‘It seems that isn’t a problem any longer’ he thought as he stripped his jacket and pulled on an apron snapping his finger to the tune of a song. It seemed that the number of people practically doubled in meer moments. 

It was something to do he supposed, with eternity on his hands there was nothing more to do than what there was in that very moment. So he opened the refrigerator and began to gather the assortment of ingredients he needed, humming to himself as he set them down in sections. 

Gathering the flour in his hands he began to pour the fine powder in the bowl in front of him throwing in the other ingredients and grabbing the whisk from the drawer to the side. His shadows prepared the oven and mats as he stirred the batter. Eyes shut he sways from side to side as he held onto the bowl with one hand and whisked away with the other. For a blissful moment, he was back in the small stuffy kitchen in New Orleans, singing along to the radio with his mother both smiling widely. With an extra pep in his step, Al strode across the kitchen, plucking the buttermilk from the hands who offered it. 

Only those hands were not of shadow but pale as moonlight and tipped with black claws. His eyes flew open and he could practically hear his stomach hit the floor with a ‘splat’ sound as his gaze locked with Charlotte's.

The condescending grin was still set on her face as she quirked a brow at his shocked expression, “I hope you don’t mind if I join you for breakfast this morning? There are a couple of things I’ve been dying to talk to you about,” she said. 

“Well, you are welcome any time my dear,” he replied, the radio feedback crackling in his voice as he internally shook off the shock. 

Silence weighed heavily above both of them, even the radio had shut off. They simply stared at each other, both with unwavering smiles pasted onto their faces. They stood like that for what could have only been a minute but it felt like an hour. It was only the smell of charring meat that pulled them from their staring contest, “My bacon!” Alastor exclaimed, scuttling off to the sizzling pan. 

Charlotte stood by, amused at the flustered demon lifting the heated the iron skillet off of the stove and quickly took out the semi charred slips of meat. She could tell already today was going to be quite an amusing day, striding forward she took the batter from his hands and with a snap of her fingers sent them into the oven on the tray. 

“I do have to say, I did not see you as such a chef, color me impressed.”

He offered her a small smile and she could have sworn a bit of pink dusted his high cheeks. It was quite a sight to see such a soft expression on a man who towered nearly eight

feet tall. It almost stung her pride that she hands to look up to meet his eyes; what eyes they were, the color of fresh blood yet filled with kindness. 

“Well, my dear, may I offer you a cup of joe while we wait?” Not waiting for an answer he trotted off to gather a couple of mugs and filled them both with coffee. She took the mug offered wordlessly and glided out of the kitchen, into the side room that seemed to have been set for a meal suiting five. Opting to stay standing Charlotte waved her hand and let a stack of papers fall onto the table with a resonating thud. She waited as Alastor stared at the stack blankly, the coffee halfway to his mouth. 

He gave her a questioning look, “Financial papers and possible funders as well as preset expenses,” she explained as to which the demon nodded, a little wide-eyed. 

“It seems you’ve done quite a bit of homework,” he offered, setting down the mug to sort through the papers.

A small grin set on her features as she took in his weary expression, “ well when something of interest comes around it’s a pleasure to work for it. It seems that there was no record of an official launch to this idea of yours so all the media has on it is whispers and a fistfight,” she said with a raised eyebrow at the sheepish look on his face.

He opened his mouth but was cut off but the slamming of a door, both heads snapped towards the doorway, Charlotte's doing a solid 180.

In the doorway stood Vaggie, her expression hardened as she stared at the princess. Behind the moth demon stood Niffty, Angel, and Husk. There was a palpable tension in the air as everyone stayed artfully silent. The tension was only broken by a high pitched gasp and the shuffle of small footsteps as Niffty rushed forward to the table, babbling about the food that was spread out. 

With a snap of her fingers, Charlotte brought another chair and table set right next to Alastors. Everyone shuffled into their seats, no one touched anything until Angel let loose a snort and grabbed a biscuit, stuffing it in his face. 

“You people are so stiff  _ all _ the time,” he said, waving a biscuit in the air.

Alastor chuckled and the tension dissolved as everyone began to shovel food onto their plates, compliments, and thanks littered between bites of food. 

“So, it seems I’ll be stealing you for some time today Al, I do hope that’s alright,” Charlotte eyed the faces at the table almost daring them to say anything. 

They didn’t, she smiled. 

“Alright then,” she stood from her seat which disappeared as well as the untouched plate in front of her. 

“Shall we,” she asked, tucking her hands behind her back and giving Alastor a side-eye which made him put down his fork and stood up. 

His smiled softly at Vaggie as he walked out of the room, down the hall they walked in silence, Alastor clutched the papers to his chest. They turned a corner and he stepped forward, sliding his key into the door and twisting the knob the two demons stepped into an unlit room. It was small, in a corner lay a mahogany desk and to the other side was a bronze lamp. The room was orderly to a point where nothing seemed out of place, he pulled out one of the velvet bound seats and turned on the lamp. With a flick, the room was bathed in warm light and they both sat down with the papers between them. 

Charlotte flicked her wrist and the stack of papers fluttered apart into sections, she took one and slid it to him. He took it from her and looked through it. In his hands was a list of channels and showtimes, underneath that was the name of the host and their information. He looked up at the woman across from her with wide eyes, she simply stared back, indifferent. 

“Choose,” she said simply.

He looked over the list of names, all the faces seemed vaguely familiar but one stood out. He could practically feel the flames licking his heels when his eyes landed on the masked face of none other than Tom Trench. Alastor was walking back to the manor when he was bombarded by the wayward reporter and his cameraman, harsh words led to bold actions which lead to flying fists. The man had brought a flamethrower to a fistfight and had forced Alastor's hand ( who promptly disemboweled him ). It seemed the man had pieced himself back together and went back on to ruin other people's day with his abused co-host: Katie Killjoy. 

A small bitter part of him wanted to ruin the man for getting Alastor in such a mess and releasing information that was private on live television. It seemed it was that same part of himself that circled the man's face in blood-red ink and slid the paper back to the princess who immediately grinned with amusement. 

“Quite a choice, so when do you want to air,” she said with a chortle.

Alastor pondered it for only a moment before looking down at the available times, quickly he underlined a date a half a week from that day in the same crimson ink. 

Wordlessly she took the paper from his clawed hand, folding it and putting it in her coat. 

“Now that that is out of the way, we can talk about how you plan to fund this project of yours,” she leaned onto the table setting her laced hands in front of her. 

Alastor squirmed at her question because in truth he didn’t think he would get this far and he was not foolish enough to think that others around him had the same dream, even though it was their necks on the line every cleansing. 

“Well…” he began, “-you have no idea,” Charlotte finished, raising her eyebrows. 

He didn’t answer, that was the only answer she needed. 

She nodded her head and pulled another packet from the pile of papers, he took it cautiously eyeing her all the while.

When he looked down he could feel the blood drain from his face, typed in bold black ink was ‘BIRDS OF PARADISE’. It was the name of the club he co-owned with his good friend Mimzy. The sinking feeling in his stomach only grew as he flipped the pages, inside was all the information of the club. All from the layout to the names and wages of the employees, it was all there. He threw the packet onto the table, a small snarl on his lips as he glared at the demoness across from him. 

She remained indifferent to him, he could almost see a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she met his gaze. 

“It seems that your ‘job’ is your main source of revenue even though you are one of the favored in a very prestigious family,” she stated, with another snap of her fingers she pulled a folder from the air and waved in front of his face then put it back from once it came just as quickly. 

“So what are you suggesting,” he held back a snarl, he didn’t know why it had riled him up as much as it did, she was a princess after all and entitled to all of his information. But he at least wanted the  _ illusion _ of equality in their partnership. 

“Well I was thinking after we clear the waters of all rumors and fix up the place there could be a charity at your little club, half the revenue could go to the furtherment of the project and the other half can line your pockets.”

There, it seemed that she laid down her cards. 

Alastor hated to admit it but it was a good idea, the club pulled in a lot of revenue that seemed to go nowhere but into Joseph's pockets. She checkmated him and they both knew it. 

“I think that would be a great idea,” he admitted begrudgingly, lacing and relacing his fingers. 

She grinned widely at him, “It seems we have a few things to check off our list now.” 


	4. Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finals ( which I totally failed ). It's short because I have no attention span. To summarize it: Charlotte is ready to eat Alastor like a McNugget, Al is constantly flustered, Husk is done, Niffty is constantly giving crackhead energy, Vaggie is ready to shishkabob Charlotte, and Angel is Angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. Comments are always appreciate.

Angel couldn’t really say he _cared_ that much about the hotel or whatever more than it was a roof over his head and food on his plate. ‘Cours the staff was a ball to poke fun at from time to time, except for the bitter cat behind the bar, that asshole just brushed him off. 

Yet when he spotted Al practically stomping out of his office red-faced with his ears pinned back he had to admit that it had piqued his curiosity. 

He followed the demon silently as he walked briskly back into the kitchen, as Alastor grabbed a piece of toast Angel leaned against the door frame, two gloved hands resting against his hips while the other filled the door. 

“What do you want, Angel,” his radio voice called without turning. 

Angel grinned. It seemed he was right and _someone_ got the strawberry twinks tights in a knot. 

“Oh, nothing. Just seems that you’ve been redder than your suit ever since the princess walked in and stepped on ya toes...hooves…whatever you got under those shoes,” he pointed out idly.

Alastor spun around, scowling fiercely, the coffee in his mug nearly flying out in the process. The smile was still on his face but it was sharper, darker than it was a moment ago and Angel almost regretted bringing up. 

That thought was thrown out the window and run over by a train when he spotted his ears, both swerving atop his head madly. The poor fucker looked ridiculous. 

“Oooooooh, looks like someone has the hots for a certain sadist,” he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Angel had to swallow a chuckle as Alastor turned redder and redder, almost matching his hair, the look on his face was past mortified. _Oh SHIT. He totally has the hots for the princess, oh this is gonna be sooo good._ Angel thought darkly. 

“I do _not,_ ” he growled, blushing harder at Angel’s smug face, “She just doesn’t have _any boundaries_! She’s always one-upping me like it’s some sort of a game and is so smug about it because I’m losing!”

He set down the mug and crossed his arms, ears pinning flat against his head as he began to pace back and forth.

“It’s like I’m just a kid to her! If she wants to be a part of this she can at least have the courtesy to treat me like an adult!”

“To be fair she’s old enough to be your mom like twenty times over,” Angel pointed out, enjoying the frazzled look the wendigo gave him. 

He threw his arms up then let them fall back to his side, he turned back to Angel, “I don’t care for her at all, in fact, I dislike her!”

Angel pushed himself from the door frame with a smug look on his face. 

“Whatever you say toots,” he replied, strutting out the room. 

“Oh I’m gonna have one fucking HELL of a time playing cupid,” he chuckled darkly, “she’s gonna eat him alive.” 

* * *

  
  


Charlotte drummed her fingers on the glass apple atop her staff, the rhythmic click of her steps was the only thing that sounded in the hallway. She had almost laughed at the stricken look on Al’s face when she flaunted the files. He was much too trusting and it was simply adorable. The grin on her face twitched a little when the set up for the interview came back to mind, admittedly she did want a bit more time to bring things together but the glint in his eye had been well worth it. 

It seemed the little demon was not all above the rest of the sinners in hell, she could see the anger and bitterness in his eyes when he read the name and the dark satisfaction when he set the date. Alastor, the dear, was no better than the rest of the dirty sinners down in hell. ‘What a self-pitying fool he is,’ she thought idly. ‘Couldn’t face the consequences of his actions and using righteousness as a getaway,’ she almost scoffed. 

The self-righteous ones where the worst, even in hell where they were meant to suffer for their wrongdoings they still thought themselves sinless. She enjoys carving them up, she’d always leave the talkative ones alive when she tore their flesh from their bones. Of course, she made sure to remove their vocal cords first. 

Charlotte knew that it was a waiting game, she did not want to throw away this project's potential just because of a silly craving, she would watch Alastor tear himself down and she would finish the job. But until then, she would have to be civil, even if it meant playing house with the naive demon. The princess had seen the frustrated blush and pinned back ears from the other demon at the slightest of teases. He expects her respect and she would give him just that, Charlotte knew that she was walking a very thin line at the moment. 

She has offered nothing and has only been pompous to him and his… limited … staff. It would be harder than she would have liked to admit to getting past Alastors guard dog, _Vaggie._ Her brows furrowed at the thought of the moth demon, in other circumstances, she might have taken the girl as a plaything. It seemed that the demoness was not fond of Charlotte, she simply _couldn’t_ fathom why. 

‘I can always get rid of her if she bothers me too much,’ she thought as she turned another corner and stepped into the lobby. It was unsurprisingly empty. The only real movement was Husker snoring on the counter with a bottle in hand and a small form buzzing from corner to corner with a feather duster waving madly. 

“Oh Niffty, my dear, do come to walk with me,” her voice rang sweetly across the large room. The smaller demons head snapped around, large amber eyes staring at the princess for a moment before rushing towards her in a flash of pink and yellow. 

“Hiya Ms. Charlotte, what can I do for you? Is there something that needs to be cleaned,” the imps grin widened as she raised her duster. Charlotte gently pushed down the tool with her staff and began to walk, Niffty on her heels. 

“I do need a progress report, you are my eyes and ears after all.”

Charlotte thought for a moment.

“Eye,” she corrected. 

Niffty nodded her head vigorously, neon bob bouncing. 

“Well, the place was pretty dusty! It seems the lady upstairs in the guest wing does a lot of naughty things in her free time, the other lady always looks so mad, I wish she’d smile,” Niffty pouted. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed, a grin coming back full force, “There’s Al! He’s so nice, he made breakfast and gets up early and plays music and smiles! He reminds me of the nice waiter back at Sal’s Diner,” Charlotte nodded sagely at the smaller demonesses rambling. 

She had to admit she was a bit surprised at the liking that Niffty took to Alastor, she was quite a bit scatterbrained so he must have made one hell of an impression.

She smiled down at the imp, “Thank you, dear, you’re dismissed,” the smaller demoness quickly scuttled off murmuring to herself about something or other. 

Charlotte decided it was time to go back and ~~pester~~ help Alastor, if she played her cards right she might even catch a sponsor or two. With a tap of her staff, Razzle appeared in front of her in a small bow. 

“Go fetch him, would you? And bring him to his office,” the goat demon nodded and ran off down the hall. She turned, her coattails fluttering (over) dramatically as she made her way back to his office. It was quite an office indeed if there was anything she could give him it was that he knew what he was doing when it came to decorating. The whole manor gave a very rustic yet elegant feeling, not very inviting but beautiful nonetheless. 

Without even flinching she walked through his office door, gliding through reinforced cherrywood without a second thought. The smell of worn leather and pine hit her blackened nose with a vengeance, it wasn’t a bad smell, simply different the smoky and irony smells that were a constant in hell. 

It was a nice change, she thought as she perched on his desk, tattered coat covering the dark wood with crimson. Charlotte was by no means a short woman, she towered at 6 foot 10 but even so her feet still dangled over the edge of the table as if she were a child. ‘That’s a little frustrating,’ she thought for a moment, before packing it away and plastering another smile on her face, a replica of her father. 

She could hear the muffled click of hooves near the door. With a small click, the door swung open and the two demons came in. Razzle came to her side, leaping onto Alastor's desk and leaning in as she scratched between his horns. She kept her eyes on the deer demon whos smile seemed to be more and more strained with every second he stood in the room. 

They watched each other in silence until Alastor cleared his throat and pulled out a chair. 

“Is there anything you need,” she raised a silent eyebrow at the lack of pet names and he blushed. 

“Well, seeing that we’ll both be on air, I think it would be best we _collaborate_ on the script,” she could see in his eyes that he never really considered that she would be there too, _typical_ , she had to admit he hid it well as he nodded his head and sat down. He stared at her coat for a moment then looked up at her, Charlotte pondered staying on the desk before begrudgingly jumping off, opting to lean over it next to him. She saw from the corner of her eye how he leaned away, she sighed through her nose. 

He pulled a notebook from his back pocket and took a pen from the holder, laying it out in front of both of them.

“The main goal of this airing is to explain and expand on what the _project_ is in a way that won’t get us scoffed at or torn apart,” he explained, putting a single bullet point at the top of the yellowed paper in dark red ink. 

“Ah, it seems the problem here is that there are two different audiences who this can attach to but they want two different things out of it,” she said, drumming her fingers.

He nodded his head, “We have to find a way to get both in without counteracting the other.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, pointing a tar-black nail at him.

Charlotte leaned back against the table, quickly pulling a paper from thin air she scribbled something down. 

On opposite sides of the paper were the words 'sponsor’ and ‘patient’, she drew a line between them. 

“For this to work, we need both. For a sponsor they don’t actually care about the project, they just want to see it fail or possibly eat the leftovers,” she explained, ignoring how the demon beside her paled. 

“But,” she continued, “for a patient, there must be _hope_ , that one can be redeemed. Of course, it can’t be all rainbows and puppy dog kisses but if we can somehow make this seem like an experiment that they could benefit from then…” she wrote both under their corresponding groups, adding bullets below. 

Alastor quickly leaned in closer to her, his pen hovered above the paper for a moment before landing above the dots.

“Because there are two of us we’ll both address different groups, I’ll go for the patient and you’ll go for the sponsors,” he sent her a side glance, “they respect you much more,” he concluded. 

She looked down at the paper, their names had been written in red ink. 

“You can't oversell it,” she warned, “if you have too much enthusiasm they’ll take you for a fool,” _which you are_ , she added silently. 

Seemingly ignoring her, he began to scribble down ideas and monologue prompts. They were better than she liked to admit, without looking up he said, “I was a radio host in my past life, I know how to talk to people.” 

She ignored him and began writing her own prompts, it was only for show, of course, she knew exactly what she would say and how she would say it. It was all a game, all she had to do was ‘hand’ them the pieces, for a fee of course. 

Her writing began to slow as she took to simply watching the demon next to her, he was chewing on his lip as he wrote, scratching out things and rewriting them, then doing it again, over and over. The room was silent of all but the sound of his pen against the paper, maybe he wasn’t completely foolish after all. 

* * *

The minutes blurred into each other as Alastor tweaked and crumpled draft after draft, his mind shifting back to a time long gone. It seemed his fingers remembered, for soon the pages that lay against the desktop shifted from cursive to shorthand. He was back in his old radio room, the microphone on one side of the desk and the window on the other, the whole state waiting on him. But it was different, it was no longer the Louisiana humidity that clung to his skin but the dry heat of fire that brought his fingers to his collar. When he finally looked up, his office was empty, there was no demoness across from him, Alastor sat alone. 

His eyes drifted to the clock against the far wall, 11:37. He had been there for more than an hour and a half. 

The pain in his fingers finally reached him as he set down the notebook and put back the pen. His back popped loudly as he got up and began towards the door. He looked back for a moment as he stood in the frame, then pulled the door closed behind him. 

* * *

Husk held a beer in one hand and tapped the counter with his other. He had had a lot of odd jobs with a lot of sketchy people both in and out of hell, considering his employer, this seemed just too easy. He couldn’t help but wait for the door to be blown off its hinges and some overzealous cunt would come in and start wreaking shit or if some gang would come tearing through and shooting people. 

Of course, he’d only been here for a day and a half, and there were still some annoyances. Mainly the slut who kept on shoving his cleavage in his face. But other than that all he was doing was ~~raiding~~ manning a bar which got absolutely no customers. In fact, this day had actually been pretty boring, other than seeing a grown man in a frilly apron and the boss looked on the verge of eating someone not much had happened. 

“Come on sugar, I just got back can’t ya give me a day to recover,” complained a voice from around the corner. Soon enough the person it was coming from turned the corner, two hands on his hips and one holding a phone to his (ear?). 

The spider demon sauntered into the room and threw himself onto the sofa, kicking his long legs out over the edge and resting his head on the other. 

“You want me on my A-game don’t ya,” he whined into his phone. 

_Oh great_ , Husk thought, taking a swig of beer and turning his back on the other demon. 

There was a moment of silence before Angel let out a small sigh.

“Thank you sugar,” he cooed into the phone before tucking it back into his (cleavage?). 

Husk could feel the spiders' eyes on him and had to hold back a string of curses as he heard footsteps come towards the bar. 

“Heya cutie,” Angel leaned in, puffing out his chest and fluttering his eyelashes. Husk didn’t even blink. 

“Could ya be a dear and get me a Shirley Temple,” said the spider, unaffected by the blatant rudeness. 

The cat demon turned on his heel and began pulling out the ingredients, risking a side glance at the demon at the bar. The sultry grin was still on his face but his eyes looked half-lidded for different reasons, the bags under his eyes where pronounced even under the fine layer of fur. He could see the faint darkness of bruises peeking out from underneath the choker that the demon never seemed to take off ( unlike the rest of his clothes ). 

It was a shame he didn’t care. 

Sliding the drink at the demon on the other side of the bar and ignoring how he took the cherry in his mouth and winked at him, then knotted the stem and twirled it on his fingers before flicking it away. 

Husk simply took another gulp of beer and lifted his wing, blocking all views of Angel. There was a brief moment of silence before the tapping of fingers against the table started, one hand, then two, three, four, five. The cat demon was about to pull a switch and slice off the siders finger before all of the tappings stopped. 

“Let me guess,” drawled Angel, “Alcohol poisoning, bar fight?” 

The prostitute began rattling off death after death, each one more absurd than the last until the other demon spun around, slamming his hands down on either side of the spider demon.

Husk leaned in close to the other demon, wings fanning out around them and he stared into the other demons eyes with seething rage coming off in waves, “I will **castrate** you,” the cat hissed. With a flap of his wings, he pulled himself away from the other demon, tucking back into the corner and grabbing a whiskey off the bar wall. 

“Kinky,” Angel called, downing his drink in around a couple of gulps. He stood, pushing himself from the bar, cocking his hip he wiggled his finger at Husk, “It’s been fun toots, but I need my beauty rest, feel free to join me,” he cooed, walking away from the bar and out of sight. 

He could feel the pounding behind his eyes subdue as the other demon walk away, taking another swig of whiskey before reaching for the glass. A small sneer worked its way onto his face as he saw the heart-shaped lipstick mark on the glass, did he even have lips? 

He set the glass into the sink, letting his eyes catch on the beautifully stained glass doors. It was a portrait of a forest, casting an eerie red hue across the mahogany floor. 

A strange job indeed.


	5. Picture Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte can distort reality.  
> Alastor wears glasses like a NERD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever... things are finally gonna start picking up. I promise.
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT, I live off of comments, anything you want to say, say it. 
> 
> It's 2:22 in the morning, I'll do some edits later when I get my brain back.

Alastor was nervous, although his face showed the same cheery grin there was something unmistakably off about the hum that constantly followed the taller demon. The sound buzzed in the back of Vaggies conscious like a fly she couldn’t swat. It had seemed like in a span of a few moments nearly two weeks had passed and three new people had been introduced into their lives. From nothing to straightening Alastor's bow tie so he could go broadcast his dream to the entirety of hell, it had thrown her for a loop. Her grip on the man's bow tightened as she spotted the princess looming in the background. 

Clad in a suit the color of old blood Charlotte stood silently, her golden hair woven through with tar-black briars. She was beautiful and imposing and Vaggie hated her, she hated her so much. 

Her dark thoughts were halted by a featherlight touch against her hand, which still clutched Alastors bow tightly, her one eye flitted up to Alastor who look down at her silently. Letting go the smaller demon took a step back, flattening out her dress and offering a small smile before turning on her heel and briskly walking down the hall. 

Alastor smile lessened a fraction as he watched the smaller demons fleeting form, something small tugged at him, the look in her eye was nothing less than haunted. It was far too late to do anything so he simply turned and walked towards the only other demon in the room. Charlotte wore a suit similar to the one they met in, only the stitch was golden and it was made of burgundy velvet. She smiled as he approached her, with a flick of her wrist she seemingly pulled her staff from her coat sleeve. 

The metal made a dull sound as it hit the floor, she looked at him expectantly, a toothy smile still set on her face. Al cleared his throat and offered her his arm, to his shock and humiliation she pushed it down with her staff. Cocking her head to the side she narrowed her eyes, “As much as I’d love to hang from your arm, we don’t want the press to get the wrong idea.” 

She caught his nose between two knuckles, shaking it for a beat before withdrawing and heading towards the door. Alastor could already feel the humiliated blush work up from his collar, he bit his lip, hard. It was all he could do not to storm off or let his face twists into an ugly frown. Taking a deep breath and pushing his glasses up his nose he began to match her pace meeting the demoness at the doors. Standing in front of the manor was a black limousine that seemed to span half of the block, each window tinted. A smaller demon hopped out of the car, trotting over to the door the goat-like demon shuffled in the princess. Alastor followed in suit, ducking into the car, it was dark save for the gleaming cherry red leather seats. They sat across from each other, Charlottes wiggled her fingers idly, a cigarette weaving between her them seemingly out of nowhere. 

Placing it in her mouth she snapped her fingers, a small flame appearing on her thumb and lighting it. Taking a puff of the cigarette she made a silent offer, Al shook his head. He didn’t mind the smoke much, somehow it didn’t seem to stale the air of the car so he didn’t complain. After all, he lived in a time where smoke constantly tinged the air and now he lived in hell. 

“Do you think this is going to work,” the words were out before he knew what he was going to say.

She grinned at him, “Oh darling, I know this will be quite a show stopper.”

The ball of dread that had sat atop his lungs suddenly became infinitely heavy and the soft smell of smoke became suffocating. He took a large breath, almost heaving as the heavy tobacco scented air filled his lungs. Fingers digging into the cuffs of his jacket Alastor felt himself become lightheaded. 

Suddenly the heavy air lightened, the smell of smoke left and the car flooded with a breeze from all sides, he looked up, the princess's hand was empty now, her eyes hooded and outcast. Thank you, the words sat heavily on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t say it, staying silent and leaning back into the chair he watched the fleeting scenery. 

It felt like only moments before the car came to a stop afront a looming building, stepping out of the car Alastor watched as demons shuffled in and out of the building like ants. Charlotte brushed past him, as she walked the crowd began to narrow, thinning with every step towards the door Alastor followed in her footsteps almost riding on her heels. 

Seemingly ignoring the desk she turned down a hallway, each twist leads to another looming hall. The walls were covered with records and the floors had the same never-ending checkers. He watched silently as they passed studio after studio until she finally stopped, throwing open the door and pulling him inside before he had the chance to even read the room name. Inside the room was the set and a small collection of demons on the other side of the camera. 

The dread he once felt sitting atop his lungs fell to the pit of his stomach as he took in the forty-plus demons whose eyes were all trailed on them, more specifically Charlotte. She cocked her head to the side, her staff now in her hand.

“Bow,” the single word was followed by the resounding thud of her staff against the tile floor. Alastor had to keep from gasping as the whole room fell from their seats to their knees, each one muttering a greeting of sorts. Oh boy, he thought as the room began to pick itself off the floor, mutters, and grunts littering the crowd.

“Well now that that’s settled,” she strode past him once again and it only then did his eye catch the masked face of none other than Tom Trench. Alastor was not one to hold a grudge, it was petty and a waste of time. Yet, even in life reporters had rubbed him the wrong way, they were not like radio hosts who worked for the people. They worked for themselves, letting their ambitions and biases ruin their work and other people's days. 

It seemed his malice was mirrored in the man's expression, he fumed at Alastor, the glass of his goggles fogging. He stood up, storming over to Alastor and Charlotte, nearly knocking Killjoy out of the way. 

“Alastor,” the man growled, “you couldn’t just leave it at tearing me apart, you have the audacity to show up at my workplace and take a place at my show. You think I’m going to let that happen you little sh-” the man’s ranting was cut short by a glass apple being wedged against his throat, forcing his head upwards to meet Charlotte's eyes.

They were blazing red, nearly glowing as she watched the smaller demon squirm. 

“I do think it would be best to behave yourself, Tom, we wouldn’t want another mess on our hands,” her voice echoed darkly, power dripping from her every word. 

“Now what do we say,” she asked, a sharp-toothed grin splitting her face. 

“He’s sorry,” Alastors hand brushed against the staff, he didn’t want this, he was mad but he didn’t want...this. Her eyes flicked to him, slitted pupils widening a fraction she sighed, pulling her staff away. The heavy air in the room didn’t dissipate, the low buzz of chatter was cut through, “two minutes till airing.”

Alastor took another deep breath and risked a glance to the side, Charlotte's face was blank but before he had the time to see more, her white irises flicked towards him. Swerving his head away Alastor fought off a blush, I hope she doesn’t think I was staring. He whimpered at the thought, the clicking of heels against the floor caught his attention and he realized that she was walking towards the set. 

Glancing at the clock he shuffled over to the desk, taking the seat next to Charlotte and away from Trench. Alastor could feel the other man's eyes(?) digging into the side of his head but he ignored it. 

The buzzing of the crowd died down as the cameraman began to count down on his fingers. 

3

2

1

He pointed his hand at them as the recording light flashed to life, Tom's voice bombed inside the silent room. 

“Good evening pentagram city and welcome to 666 news, I’m Tom Trench and this is my CoHost Katie Killjoy. Today we’ve got some special guests with us, say hello to Charlotte Magne our princess of hell and Alexander!”

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the reporter, hands tightening around his pocket notebook. Before he could say anything Charlotte began, “Actually, my charming partners name is Alastor,” she grabbed the mic from in front of Katie Killjoy and leaning into it, “that’s right you dirty sinners, I’m his first sponsor and business partner, now dear why don’t you introduce yourself and your idea.”

The spotlight tilted, shining brightly in Alastor's face, glinting against his glasses and making him squint. 

“Hello folks, my name is Alastor. You’ve probably seen me on the picture show, you see I got in a bit of a scuffle without dear friend Mr. Trench so I’m here to clear the air.” 

He leaned into the mic, flicking his eyes from one side to the next almost comically before straightening with the mic in hand.

“Now you may have heard of some jibber-jabber about a project, well I’m what you’d call a curious cat and I’ve set up a hotel of sorts,” the static around him shifted to a soundtrack of gasps and yelps. 

“That’s right folks, my little experiment is to rehabilitate demons and see, just maybe, we won't be damned forever! We are as of now accepting volunteers.”

There was a beat of silence and before anyone could do anything the princess swooped in and picked the conversation back up, “Now we can’t do this alone my dear sinners,” she announced, slamming her hand down against the counter and rising to her full height. 

She loomed, the darkness seemed to float around her as her horns seemed to elongate, “My partner and I would simply love to have some sponsors to walk this road with us, it will be worth your time and I assure you, success would be quite fulfilling. If this experiment succeeds, we’ll have a whole new era of entertainment.” 

Her words were bright with morbid amusement, a large smile adorned her face, cutting into the slight blush of her cheeks and sharpening her face. The room was silent, everyone watched the princess. The sound of a scoff rang through the room, all heads turned to Tom Trench. He was shaking his head, “You’re all fucking stupid,” he laughed again, “ Rehabilitating sinners? What dumbass would be good just because?” 

“Those who don’t want to be exterminated, or sold as sex slaves, or food, or workers, or prey or the many other dastardly things that could happen to one down here in the pits,” Charlotte replied patiently, although her hand was tight around the mic. 

“Oh yeah, and who’s going to buy into that bullshit? You fucked up on earth you’re sent down here,” the reporter exclaimed, throwing his papers in the air and smacking Killjoy in the face. 

“We don’t know that,” Alastor cut in, “it’s never been tried before, death is an extension of life so why not repent now?”

“Because that’s not how it works you stupid fag,” spat the reporter, pointing a gloved finger at the other demon. 

Charlotte’s brows pulled together as her smile fell, “Trench, watch yourself,” she warned.

“Shut up bitch,” the man spat.

Immediately everything stopped, the room darkened and the camera cut out, the demoness emanated violence as her hair began unraveling from it’s braided and her form darkened. Standing boldly against the shadows that enveloped her were her eyes, shining white encased in blood red. 

Alastor scooted away from her, his chain screeching against the floor as the princesses form began seeping across the table like ink bleeding through paper. The man began burbling apologies as his co-host dove out of the way, screams rang true as the darkness reached the quivering man. 

The searing of flesh was the loudest sound in the room as the tentacles of darkness encompassed the smaller demon, searing into his being and dragging him down into the void. 

With a comical slurping noise, the masked demon was sucked into the void, his screaming abruptly cut short. 

The darkness seeped back into the demoness as if set in speed rewind. In a moment she was reseated, a smug smirk on her face as if nothing happened. 

Jumping to his feet Alastor smiled at the crew and offered his hand to the princess who took it casually, "Best be on our way now, tootles," he called the stunned crowd. Quickly he shuffled them both out of the room and into the hall, the larger demon pushed his glasses up his face and groaned. 

"How are we going to attract anyone if they see you suck someone into god knows where at the slightest taunts," he exclaimed, pointing at the door. 

"Please dear, " she waved idly, "I shut off the camera before I sent him to the void."

She turned to him, this time a more stern expression on her face, "You shouldn't be such a pushover Alastor if there was anything that my father told me it was that you don't take shit from other demons." 

She leaned into him, "If you want respect, earn it."

Walking past briskly, she left him standing by the door of the hallway, silent. 

Alastor watched her walk away, a hollowness seemed to settle inside him as her form shrank. He was so much deeper in than he ever could have dreamed. No, this wasn't a dream, it was more of a lucid nightmare. 

A lamb to the slaughter was what he was, what they all were and he had just witnessed the first slaughter. 

Casting his eyes upward he wondered for the first time, will it be worth it? 

He followed ran off after the monarch because he didn't know. 

* * *

As the screen cut into static Vaggie could do nothing but stare blankly at the fuzzy screen. It felt like the screen was a reflection of what was in her head, blank. She had no words; it was...what it was. It didn't go badly, but it also didn't go well. 

Her eye flicked to Angel Dust, who had been watching the broadcast with her, he seemed indifferent throughout the entirety of it. Only actually looking impressed the seconds before the screen cut out. 

"Ya know, I bet ya twenty bucks he's dead," he said with a chuckle, flipping through the channels only to settle on some dramatic reality show. 

Taking a large sip of his non-alcoholic cocktails ( mocktail? ), he shrugged. 

"I think that this is all going to shit anyway, so not too worried about the intro. Hell, it was practically dead on arrival," he squawked a curse when the moth demon kicked him in the shin. 

"No need to get ya taco in a twist tiny tits," he grumbled. 

She spun around to glare at him, "I say this from the bottom of my soul, go fuck a cactus."

He shrugged again.

"I've done worse." 

He chuckled as the smaller demons bow began warping and sharpening into horns atop her head.

She huffed loudly and walked away. 

He watched her go, there was a pole so far up her ass that any little thing he did pissed her off. At first, it was fun but now it became mundane, as much as he hated to admit it, it was boring to annoy her. It was a shame, considering she was the only one around most of the time he was back. 

Husk ignored him and the neat freak was just out of the question, he sighed loudly, “There's nothin fun to do around here,” he wondered aloud, eyes drifting to a certain disgruntled cat. 

A small grin worked onto his face as he kicked himself up, adjusting his crop top and sauntering to the counter, half-finished mocktail in hand. 

“Hiya Husky boo,” Angel cooed, leaning onto the desk with two of his four arms. The cat demon pointedly ignored him, turning his back and fanning out his wings to cover his form.

Angels pouting was cut short by the slamming of the large front doors. Both demons at the bar looked at the entrance where two figures stood. Charlotte stepped in first, her staff tapping against the ground as she strode towards the bar. 

“Hello Husk my dear friend, two celebratory shots if you will,” she hummed at the barman as the wendigo took a seat beside her.

“Oh, I try avoiding drinking,” he said meekly as the glass of clear liquid was placed in front of him. Charlotte cocked her eyebrow at him, a small grin on her face.

“One shot does no harm, it is quite the special occasion,” she prompted, nudging the glass into the taller demon's hand. 

He hesitated a moment before taking it, raising it silently they clinked their glasses.

“To the success of this project,” said Alastor as he took the shot.

Both slammed the glasses onto the counter at once, the grin on both their faces a tad bit wider. Angel Dust watched as Alastor gave the princess a look of adoration when her head was turned. 

He shook his head silently at the sight, he knew, when the man fell, it would be hard and without warning. He would pity the poor red-headed demon if it weren't so fuckin funny, Angel pushed his empty glass across the bar towards the inner edge. Leaning on his elbow he watched as Alastor and Charlotte chattered, noticing the more nervous hum of his background noise. 

‘Like a schoolboy,’ he thought idly, seeing the blush that seemed to dust his cheeks every time he made eye contact that lasted more than three seconds. 

The scratching sound of a chair against the wooden floor pulled Angel from his musing, he watched as Alastor excused himself and fled down the hall.

Now it was only Charlotte and he left at the bar, he stared at her and she stared back. 

“Soo,” he drawled, “ looks like you’re one hell of a cradle robber, aren’t ya?” The second he said the words he knew they were the wrong ones, her expression stayed the same but her pupils narrowed to hair-thin slits. 

She leaned into him, over the unoccupied spot between them, her eyes locked on his. 

“You can’t hide from me, best never forget,” her words were hushed and soft, almost as if spoken to a sleeping child. 

Angel could feel a shiver work up his spine at the demonesses words, something deep screamed at him to run away. It was scary to be someone who has never had something to hide suddenly feel so transparent they don’t feel whole. 

Why? Why did her words scare him so much…

He stayed silent as she disappeared, each part of her fading into nothingness ending with her gleaming red eyes and wide malevolent grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her her her, I really want to put a lot of complexity behind Angel and Vaggie's character so...be ready for that I guess.


	6. Singing the Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT: I love comments, no matter what you have to say I'd love to hear it.
> 
> Axeman Jazz - Reddie Whilling & Abel  
> Fear & Delight - The Correspondents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, I want it out so it's probably gonna be shit.

Alastor nodded his head even though the person on the other side of the line couldn’t see it. Scribbling down the person's information he struggled to keep the child-like glee out of his voice, “Thank you for your consideration, we will book a spot for you when the hotel opens.” There was a grunt on the other side of the line and the phone went dead, he set it down heavily and threw his hands into the air.  
“Fourteen,” he cheered, pumping his fists.   
Taking a deep breath he pushed out of his chair, notebook in hand and rushed out of his office nearly slamming the door in the process. He practically skipped down the halls towards the office he had lent out to the princess.

  
Skitting to a stop at the door, he knocked eagerly, bouncing on his heels as footsteps neared the door. It swung wide, standing inside it was the princess, “Yes,” she asked, turning to the side to let him through the door. He scuttled inside and turned to her, stars practically dancing in his eyes. Shoving his notebook forward Charlotte gazed at the messy writing that covered the pages.   
He was practically humming with excitement as she looked over the names on the paper, expression staying the same. Finally, she looked up at him and asked, “what does this mean”, with a neutral expression. His mood deflated a bit, ignoring the pang in his heart he pressed on,” fourteen people have signed up and the hotel hasn’t even opened,” he said cheerfully. 

  
She blinked at him owlishly.

  
“That’s a good thing,” he explained, tucking the notebook into his back pocket.   
“Darling,” she sighed, breezing past him, “with the magnitude of this project there shouldn’t be 14 sinners clawing at your door there should be 140, 1400, 14000,” she said throwing her arms wide. Tucking them back behind her back she continued, “If things go my way, and they always do, the Hazbin Hotel will be a name edged into the very brimstone of hells foundation,” turning on her heel she leaned into him, crimson surrounded white latching onto white surrounded crimson. 

  
Alastor leaned away from the older demons gaze, desperately trying to hide the rising blush on his face.

  
“ _Hazbin_ Hotel,” he asked, coughing into his hand to hide the squeak of his voice, what is happening to me? He wondered frantically, _I’m acting like a schoolboy_!

  
“Yes, indeed,” Charlotte clasped her hands together, “it does have quite a nice ring to it does it not?” 

  
He nodded dumbly, she seemed quite pleased with the title and it did have a ring to it. Alastor almost grimaced at the strange feeling that shot through his chest when she flashed him a genuine smile.

Feeling his face get red again Alastor sputtered out an excused and scuttled out of the room, practically slamming into Angel Dust on his way down the hall. 

“Woah,” said the taller demon, stabilizing Alastor with his four arms before they both tumbled down. “What bug crawled up your ass,” asked Angel, raising an eyebrow at the older demon. His face was the same color as a beet, glasses barely hanging on to the tip of his nose as he pushed himself away from the porn star. 

  
Before he could say anymore, the deer demon thanked him and ran off down the hall. Angel watched him go, turning to the direction where he had come he saw Charlotte leave the same room that Alastor was in, looking just a tad bit too happy with herself. 

  
He narrowed his eyes at the blond demoness, a smirk on his lips. 

  
“What did ya do to cherry head this time,” he asked, strutting up to the demoness, her snake-like eyes flicked up to him.

  
“I have no idea what you mean,” she replied curtly, moving down the hall and away from him.

  
“He was blushing like a virgin at a whore house, spill the tea!” 

  
The princesses head cranked to the side to look at him curiously, “did he now?”

  
Angel scoffed, “He was as red as his hair! Come on, you did somethin,” 

  
It seemed as she froze for a moment, a toothy smile still plastered on her face. It was honestly uncomfortable, he was debating with himself if he should wave in front of her as she suddenly snapped back into motion. Her neck straightened with a crunch and she shook her head, “Nope, can’t recall,” she chirped. 

  
The spider demon pouted, crossing his arms as he turned away, “Fine,” he exclaimed, “Don’t wanna tell me, I get it from him.” 

  
He stomped away from the smaller demon comically.

Charlotte's grin widened as he disappeared behind the corner, quite a curious little one Alastor was.

She would have to look deeper into him as soon as she could, this very well might be even more amusing than she originally thought. She turned down the hall and walked into Alastor's office, she was quite aware that it was rude to snoop in other things but she simply didn’t care.  
As long as you don’t get caught it never happened.  
She hummed as she sat down in his chair, pulling out the drawer from his desk and flipping through one of his many notebooks, her eyes snagged on a page labeled with that day's date. Below is where scribbled notes and songs which she assumed where for a performance.   
At the very bottom of the page was a time written in bold text and underlined, twice.   
She closed the book with a small thud, sliding it back into its place she made her way out of the room.  
_It seems I have my plans for tonight sorted out._

* * *

Alastor shook his head lightly as he made his way to the car parked down the street from the hotel. It had taken him nearly half the day to collect himself enough to apologize for his rude exit in the morning. He couldn’t believe he had simply run away like an idiot, he sighed as he slid into the back seat of the car. It didn’t help that Angel pestered him about it for the better part of the day as well.   
He was no fool, he knew the princess was a powerful Succubus as well as a demi-angel but he did not expect her to make him feel the way he did. For some reason, he felt he would simply go unaffected as he usually did, “My dear, magic is a strange thing.” 

  
Straightening his bow, he watched as a well-illuminated building came into view, standing grandly in neon lights was his pride and joy, The Birds Of Paradise.  
His simple suit shifted to red a three-piece as he stepped out of the car and marched towards the building. Tonight was his night and he was ready to sing and joke his stresses away, with all the fuss and muss of the hotel he hadn’t had much time to spend at the club and as a result his dear friend Mimzy.

  
Yes indeed, Mimzy and he had known each other ever since life, it was quite a duo they made on the stage, their love for Jazz pulling them together and keeping them there over the years. At one point it seemed that the poor dear had fallen for him, he did love her but simply not the way she loved him. Thankfully they were able to put the whole ordeal behind themselves but it seemed that things were never the same after it. 

  
He greeted the staff politely as he made his way to the backstage entrance, slamming the door open he all eyes swerved towards him for a moment. He waved and everyone went back to their prepping, a petite voluptuous form sauntered towards him. 

  
He smiled at Mimzy who grinned back at him, “long time no see, I was beginning to think you forgot about little old me,” Alastor chuckled at her flirty words.  
“Why my dear I would never,” he bent low, hooking his arm around her, “you’re my oldest friend!”   
They laughed together as they walked across the large room and sat down on a couch.

  
“So,” she drawled, “how's everything going? I know you were a little torn up when the rug was pulled from under you,” Alastor groaned at her question. 

  
“That’s a can of worms I’m leaving closed, it’s going well? It’s all just very stressful,” he pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned back into the sofa. 

  
Mimzy nodded her head sagely, “Well, tonight you can sing away your blues, this place has been empty without you.”

  
He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled in earnest, “This place is never empty.”

  
She smiled, “Well, I’m going up there you’d better get your shit together you’ll be on after me.” 

  
She stood, pulling up her sleeveless dress and walked out onto the stage, screams and hollers sounded from the audience.   
Her sultry voice washed over the crowd as she began to talk, Alastor stood at the opening towards the stage lying in wait of his que.  
“Let’s give a warm welcome to our favorite Radio Demon, Alastor,” he threw the door open and jumped onto the stage, grabbing the mic and practically swinging on it.   
“Hello ladies and gentlemen,” he called to the crowd, bathing it hoots and cheers that followed.

  
“I’d bet my trousers at least half of you folks know that I am from the one and only lovely New Orleans. Tonight I’m going to be singing a song in honor of my good friend and childhood hero; the New Orleans Axeman,” he pointed a gloved finger to man that sat in the center of the crowd, his large form was covered by a black trench coat and his face cast in shadow by a fedora.   
“To the closure of the 100th year of terror! A name to remember ladies and gents give it up,” cheers and claps sounded from the crowd as Alasors shadows began to play.  
The array of instruments sounded as he began to sing,  
“Hello there Mister  
Hello there Misses  
I’m here on a mission  
Ba da be de boo,”   
His foot kept the mic stand in place as he leaned into in, resting the side of his hip on the pole.   
“How I got in?  
Nah don’t worry bout that  
I’ve got a friend downstairs  
Let's keep it at that.”   
He pulled the mic from the stand and pushed off it, leaving it to rattle back into place as he began to pace across the stage, his foot tapping lightly to the beat.  
“Short story is  
I’m here to collect  
And this here is your ax  
Mister!”  
He swung the mic in an arch turning himself to face the crowd with a wide grin plastered on his face at the hoots.   
“As you may have guessed  
I’m an angel of sorts  
Taking my order from the angel of death”  
He brought the mic back to his mouth, the purr in his words vibrating through the whole club.   
“Only escape is jazzing on a Tuesday  
Or else you’ll come down and keep me company  
Police won’t see more than blood and brains  
I do all my work with an ax  
Mister!”  
The shadows that were playing around him began singing with him voices together as they sang the chorus.  
“How many heads can an ax man chop  
If an ax man could chop heads  
Dance to the tune of the axeman jazz  
Dance to the axeman jazz  
Dance or you’ll end up dead,”   
Alastor stepped into the background letting a shadow move forward and have a very soulful kazoo solo as he tapped his foot to the beat.   
“hello there mister  
hello there misses  
well now! is that ol' Satchmo i hear?  
the photograph jumps to the rhythm of the blade  
oh pop started going with his cornet  
but let's face it, it's not a full jazz band  
so I guess we're gonna have to get the ax  
Mister!”  
His grin grew even wider as he swayed his hips to the beat of the song and sang his blues away.   
“How many heads can an ax man chop  
If an axeman could chop heads  
Dance to the tune of the axeman jazz  
Dance to the axeman jazz  
Dance or you’ll end up dead,” 

  
Alastor and his shadows sang together, matching grins on every one of their faces as they all leaned into the one mic he held in his hand.   
The tune of the song slowed and Alastor's voice warped, the radio tunnel filter increasing three-fold on his voice as he sang slowly.

  
“this one goes out to New Orleans' finest, the boys in blue!  
catch me if you can!  
I am going to go real slow…” he said dragging out each word.  
And in a moment his voice was back to how it was before.   
“-for a second  
and I'm not mad  
I'm just glad  
we had this chance to  
dance  
to the ax man's jazz!”

  
The beat fastened to match his pace as he sang, every part of himself working together as they sang and danced on the stage.

  
“How many heads can an ax man chop  
If an ax man could chop heads  
Dance to the tune of the axeman jazz  
Dance to the axeman jazz  
Dance or you’ll end up dead,”   
He closed the song as his shadows hummed and ‘chopped’ in the background.   
Not even a second before the song ended the crowd erupted in roars cheers and laughs muddled with the sound of clapping as he took a small bow, shadows mimicking him.  
As Alastor bent down something familiar caught his eye, sitting in the very back of the club in a black slitted dress sat the princess, drink in hand and red eyes staring intently at him.  
Before he could process what he was doing he leaned into the mic.   
“I’m not done yet folks, there's one more song I’d like to dedicate to a special someone in the audience,” his eyes locked with hers as the piano began to play in the background.   
“All better know your cosmic greed  
Because friends of mine are in disbelief  
Because they can see what’s underneath  
Fluttering lashes   
Red lips and pearly white teeth,” his voice was smooth as he stared Charlotte down it was as if the world melted away and it was only her and him.   
“I don’t show it but I quiver  
Whenever you come near  
Because I cannot decipher  
Between the thrill and the fear  
I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here  
It's wrong but I want you tonight!”

  
He lurched forward holding onto the pole tightly as he sang against the mic, eyes shut.

  
“It was not my own volition but I fell in deep  
By running the distance I'd been advised to keep  
I trot to the wolf as a doting sheep  
It's wrong but I want you tonight!”

  
“Fear and Delight,” his hand went to cup the mic as his eyes shot open and his smile widened.   
“All the way through the night  
With a little daring do  
I’ll fall in love with you!”

  
His eyes once again locked onto hers, the white of her eye had been nearly overtaken by her pupil as she stared back. 

  
“Fear and Delight  
All the way through the night  
With a little daring do  
I’ll fall in love with you.”  
She set down her glass and the ever-present smile on her face nearly falling.   
“I'm a little boy who's going to be getting his fingers burnt  
But I can see the lessons gotta gotta gotta be learnt  
They say that boys have been destroyed but they weren't  
It's wrong but I want you tonight!”  
The room had gone silent as he sang, no one dared to say a word as the music washed over them.   
“In any case my friends it's too late  
Like a moth to light, like a beast to bait  
And I know the black widow eats its mate  
It's wrong but I want you tonight!”

  
Charlotte didn’t understand the feeling in her chest, it was overwhelming and raw and would grip her lungs with every word he sang. Suddenly this wasn’t amusing, he was mocking her, she knew it. Humiliation was what she felt gripping her lungs and bringing blood to her cheeks, it had to be. 

  
“I'm an innocent being seduced by your charms  
I'm a young boy tickled to death in your arms  
Your kisses taste like bitter almonds  
It's wrong but I want you tonight  
You're an addiction pulling me to a grave end  
You're an enemy who I'm keen to defend  
Down the black hole of my lust I descend  
It's wrong but I want you tonight!”

  
Her eyes were trapped by his, glowing in the darkness in the club with something she could not name.

  
“Fear and Delight  
All the way through the night  
With a little daring-do, I'll fall in love with you”  
Alastor closed his eyes as he sang, each word vibrating from his damned soul.   
“Why is that I'm keen to be devoured by you  
When there's the option of a love affair that's pure and true?  
I always choose the dungeon over the sea view  
It's wrong but I want you tonight  
When I'm out the other side I say never again  
But when I'm out and about I want to find the next vixen  
Someone who'll be sure to drive me round the bend  
It's wrong but I want you tonight”  
His eyes fell back to the spot where Charlotte once was, now empty.   
“Fear and Delight  
All the way through the night  
With a little daring-do, I'll fall in love with you  
Fear and Delight  
All the way through the night  
With a little daring-do, I'll fall in love with you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alastor is a Disney Princess confirmed.


	7. Eat You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took forever. I don't know how to write. 
> 
> Song:   
> Eat You - Caravan of Thieves 
> 
> Alastor gets swiss cheesed and Charlotte attempts to one-up him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking take it please I'm so tired.

The second Alastors form left the stage he launched himself onto the couch, burying his head into the cushions. The muffled sound of heels clicking towards him was the only warning before the couch dipped as someone sat down.

“That was a bad move,” he murmured against the cushion, the realization of what he had just done, the song he had just sung finally landed on his head like an anvil. Alastor didn’t know what compelled him or why only just that at that moment it was what felt right. 

How stupid.

“If you're still alive, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Mimzy said lamely, raising an eyebrow at him.

“There’s no guarantee I will be by tomorrow, she might just gut me when I get home,” Alastor flipped onto his back, staring blankly into the violet lights above him. He heard the woman next to him shift and suddenly his vision was obscured by large black eyes framed by pink lashes. 

He tensed as he felt a finger dig into his chest, the nail nearly leaving a dent in the skin underneath. 

“You followed your heart, as cheesy as that sounds, it couldn’t have led you that far astray,” with a note of finality, she pulled away, standing and loosely straightening her dress. Alastor eyed her for a moment before sitting up and running his hands through his hair, mindful of the sensitive ears. He let his hands fall to the couch as he pushed himself off, straightening his jacket as he made his way towards the door. 

He stood for a moment, hand hovering above the handle, “Thank you,” he said before stepping onto the dark street. The wind tore at his suit as he walked, there was a buzz woven in the howling wind. He watched idly as demons around him fell, and as bullets and flashes of light filled the night air. It wasn’t peaceful in hell, nor should it be, it was a place of eternal punishment yet he couldn’t find it in himself to care. As far as Alastor could remember he had spent his nights listening to the buzz of people in the city. Like many things he had done that night Alastor decided on a whim that he was going to walk back, he needed the time to himself. It was always said that it was pride before the fall and it seemed the old saying was true. He always prided himself on being in complete control of his mind and actions. Alastor although passionate was a calculated man, why now of all times when it was most important would all this be flipped on his head? It seemed fate would find every way to make him pay for his sins, this was hell after all.

And she was the daughter of Lucifer.

He felt his jaw tighten at the thought of her, again, Charlotte Magne, the harbinger of this suffering. Possibly the most suiting of all, Alastor thought bitterly, he really should have shut that door in her face. But he knew as the night carried him across the city that if he were to go back to that very day and live that moment again, he wouldn’t. It was sad but true, Alastor knew enough about himself to know that the temptation of her being called was too much for his mortal soul. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, like a fool to a trap, she was intoxicating. At some times it was almost too much to bear, standing side by side with her was something unlike anything else, she was stunning. Charlotte Magne was the moments before death, the moments after birth, the breath stolen before a fall, a shift in frames. He knew now, why he had reached out to her on that stage he sang on not too long ago. It scared him much more than he would have liked to admit. 

Alastor's ear twitched as someone shifted near him and the telltale sign on a gun being fired was all the warning he had before a familiar pain tore through his lower stomach. He was vaguely aware of his antlers branching out as he stumbled to the side. His vision went red as the blood began to slip past his fingers, stark red against black. Another shot and pain burst in his shoulder, the sound of a radio screeching roared in his ears as he slid down the wall he had fallen against. 

Through the blur of pain, Alastor saw three dark figures stalk towards him, weapons in hand and mocking smiles plastered on their faces. Rage boiled deeply in his stomach as he heard their jeering, he was no trapped animal, he reused. Alastor slammed his hand down and smeared his blood against the ground in an arch of red. A portal opened and from within hundreds of writhing tentacles sprang forth, engulfing the demons in a mass of tar-black limbs. Only a few helped him to his feet. As soon as he stood Alastor flicked his hand towards the mass of tentacles, it parted to reveal all three demons bound with their throats bare for him. 

“Come,” he demanded, pulling forward the demons and sending sprawling each limb pinned down.

He looked down at the weaker demons who struggled against the tentacles impossibly grips, they swore and cursed him as he simply studied, his smile growing ever larger. 

“So,” he drawled, the filter in his voice more staticy than ever but not enough to cloak the madness in his tone, “any of you fellows like to explain to me what this little scuffle is about?”

They all remained quiet as he cocked his head, dials still spinning madly in his wide eyes. 

“No takers,” he asked grandly, “seems I’ll have to prie it out of you! How _entertaining_ ,” and with that, all three of them were once again hoisted into the air, symbols fluttered around them as the tentacles began tightening against their forms, and squirming against their skin, then under it. Alastor watched in manic amusement as the dark appendages began shoving themselves up the demons noses, in their eye sockets, down their throats. 

He shivered at the feeling of their gagging against them as if it were his own hands tearing out their spines. 

With a satisfying crunch, he let one body fall, the haze of blood lust that he had repressed for so long was now crashing over him like a sea without end. God the true hell was denying himself of this, this power this control. 

Who needed heaven?

He turned his attention to the other two, both struggling against him, Alator watched in delight as a tentacle made its place swirling over a man's eyes.

He screamed as the dark limb slid into his socket, popping out the eye comically. 

“Now, explain, _who sent you_.”

“It was a job,” sobbed the man, blood running down his face, “a-an overlord! Vox! Please get them off me,” he screamed again as he lurched forward. 

“Why,” Alastors grin had grown so wide he felt as if it could tear his face in half.

“Well,” he sighed jovially, “it seems you’ve outlived your purpose,” and with a twitch of the tentacles both men were disposed of. 

As their bodies hit the floor Alastor could feel the fatigue setting in, everything that once held him up left him in a wave, sending him crashing to the floor.

Then, it was dark. 

-

Charlotte watched his face, the soft grin that usually adorned it was gone, if she didn’t know any better she would have assumed he was dead. 

She let her fingers trace his face, curling around a lock of red hair, so stark in contrast with the white sheets. It was so strange to see him like this when only an hour ago he was a looming figure bathed in red. The way he tore through those who attacked him was unlike anything she could imagine from him. It seemed there was more to him than she had initially thought, so interesting the darkness that loomed just underneath those doe eyes of his. 

The second she heard the gunshots go off she knew she would not let him die, as she was going to dispose of the offenders when he began to shift. At first she didn’t understand what was happening but as soon as she did she could feel something bubbling under her skin, something akin to pride. It was only when he fell again did she realize he had worn himself too thin. 

Charlotte watched him bleed on the floor, the color of his blood blending seamlessly with his suit. He seemed so dainty when she lifted him, akin to a broken bird, it was as if he would shatter into a million pieces if she simply held on too hard. 

She could have let her butlers tend to him, left him to them and retired to her own chambers but something about him compelled her. She almost felt dirty as she stripped him to his trousers, the bare skin of his chest marred with scars and caked in dry blood. As she ran the soaked linen against the trails of blood she watched as the white fabric turned shades of red. 

Charlotte watched his face, as she lay him down on one of the many empty beds in her estate. Such a strange creature he was, Alastor King. Like none she had ever seen before. 

-

When Alastor woke it was not as he expected, there was a dull shooting pain in both his side and shoulder and the fabric felt strange against his body.

Then with a drop in his stomach he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his panic lessened a bit as he realized his pants were still on. He practically tore off the blankets and lying there he was bare to his trousers, simple white bandages covered his torso and some around his shoulders. 

Unfortunately the places the odd aches seemed to resonate from, that didn’t seem good. 

His bare feet touched the foreign ground he pushed himself up, only to fall back again. It seemed as if everything in him suddenly felt as if it was made of lead. He slowly pushed himself back onto the bed, laying spread wide in order to not bother the healing wounds.

He sat there for some time, looking into a ceiling of a place unknown until the faint sound of footsteps caught his attention. He felt himself tense as he painfully lifted himself to his elbows, legs drawn in as he twisted to glare at the door. 

Finally after a weighted moment the door opened, in the frame stood a small goat-like demon, it scanned him with its wide yellow eyes before trotting forward and dropping a clean outfit at his feet. The small demon gave him a last once over before trotting out of the room, closing the door loudly on his way out.

Alastor simply blinked at the door before glancing down at the pile of clothes, fingering through them he was surprised to find a pair of black trousers, white button-up and a dark red cardigan that somehow matched his eyes as well as a folded note.

He took his time to slide into the clothes given to him, careful not to rip or pull anything under or above the bandages. 

As he grabbed his glasses from the vanity near the bed he caught a glimpse of glitter on the simple cardigan, over the heart where embroidered 2 letters in golden thread ‘C.H’. He felt his heart constrict as the two letters seemed to force his mind to click with the happenings of the night before, a hand covered his mouth as he remembered the sheer bloodlust that had filled his body as he tore those men apart. It was vile. 

He never wanted to do that again, he hated voodoo, he hated it so much. But he was afraid. Alastor had promised himself he would be caught a wounded animal ever again and it seemed he would be paying for that vow. He shook off his thought, turning his back to the vanity and opening the folded note.

In a neat sprawling handwriting was a simple set of directions: down the halls, to the base of the stairs, then to the left. He folded the note and tucked it into his back pocket, slipping into his dress shoes. Alastor started down the looming halls, adorned with black carvings and velvet walls it seemed so Charlotte he almost laughed. The smooth wood of the stairway reminded him of his own home, the one that he didn’t show up to last night. 

Alastor wondered, would they worry?

Probably not.

As he turned another hallway there was one door at the very end, underneath it shone a warm light. With a small sigh he pushed it open, it was a kitchen, not unlike the one he was accustomed to in his own home. Although slightly larger and more to Charlotte's motif it was oddly homey, his eyes caught on a head of golden hair. Sitting at a table was Charlotte, dressed in a loosely fitting white gown that cinched at the waist and left her shoulders bare. Her hair cascaded down the back of her chair as she turned to look at him, coffee mug in hand.

Her black lips widened into a smile, red eyes narrowing at him, “Ah Alastor, so nice of you to join me,” she cooed. 

“Please,” she waved her hand at the seat next to her, “do sit with me.” 

He moved forward wearily, sitting lightly in the seat by her side, the feeling over her eyes on his face was enough to bring a blush to his cheeks. 

“Quite a kerfuffle you got yourself into,” she raised her eyebrow at him, red eyes questioning, “ I would have asked the attackers but it seemed you had...taken care of it for me.”

Alastor could feel a small grimace behind his smile at her pause, so she saw everything it seemed. Fantastic. 

“It was Vox, another overlord seemed to want to have a chat with me,” he supplied, watching as she nodded her head in understanding.

“Politics,” she murmured, taking another sip of her coffee. 

Her eyes widened once again as she looked back at him, “Oh how rude of me! Would you like something to eat or drink? Coffee maybe,” Alastor nodded his head shyly, “A coffee would be nice, thank you.”

With a wave of her hand the drink appeared in front of Alastor, both sugar and milk hovering beside it, smiling softly he pulled the drink from beneath the additions, taking a small sip. 

They disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Charlotte sighed, drawing Alastors attention. 

“How did you find me,” he asked, setting aside the cup to look at the demoness across from him.

“I was keeping an eye on you,” she shrugged, ignoring the shocked look on the red head's face.

He wondered for a moment if he should confront her on that, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth the bother.

Charlotte and Alastor sat together, contently sipping their coffee in silence till a piercing siren cut through the air.

Alastor practically jumped out of his skin as Charlotte launched forward, muttering about something or other as she ran towards the oven, pulling out a tin bringing a cloud of black smoke with her.

Alastor stood, peering over her shoulder at the charred thing that might have been a cake if it didn’t look as if it were dumped in a vat of lava. An unfamiliar pout fell on her lips as she slammed down the charred brick of...something.

“Well there goes that,” she muttered, eyeing the thing bitterly, Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish displeasure, something he never would have tied to her. 

“Was that supposed to be breakfast,” he asked playfully, flicking a crumb from the rim on the tin. 

As the words left his mouth he knew he had said something wrong, her eyes flicked to him and a razor-toothed grin spread across her face.

“Oh it’s fine,” she drawled, “I had a different meal planned anyways,” seemingly out of nowhere music began to play as she suddenly grabbed his hand and began to sing.

“You're my chocolate covered strawberry

You're my piping hot pastry.”

She twirled him around, aprons suddenly appearing on their bodies as they spun.

“Dreaming about the moment that I own you

Love you to the bone

You're my vicious but delicious cheat

A heart attack lip smacking sweet

I don't deserve you either way I'll serve you

Finally I got the nerve…”

Alastor couldn’t seem to process it at first, as the danced across the kitchen Charlotte sung to him with the voice of an angel sent straight from heaven, it was like nothing he’d ever heard.

“I go hungry every night

But not this time around!”

She exclaimed cheerly, pulling him onto a table with her as they tapped across the room. 

“I'm gonna eat you, you're my desire

I'm gonna sharpen all my teeth and build a fire

I'm gonna eat you, cook and defeat you

I'm gonna breath you in my lungs and make you mine,”

She leaned back teetering over the edge of the table before pulling back to him, now eye to eye as she stood on her toes. 

She swung him to the side again, leaping off the table and pulling him across the long counter, the tapping of his shoes somehow in beat with the music that floated around them.

“'Cause you've been sticky with your tricky words

And I would crumble like a humble bird

Now you're so tender with an ear I can bend and tell you how I feel,” she leaned into him, nose nearly touching his, Alastor could feel his face flame up as she twirled him once again.

“I go hungry every night

But not this time around…” 

With a flourish, they were back on the floor. 

“I'm gonna eat you, you're my desire

I'm gonna sharpen all my teeth and build a fire

I'm gonna eat you, cook and defeat you

I'm gonna breath you in my lungs and make you mine…”

She hoisted him into the air as if he weighed nothing, Alastor flew upwards with a squawk, pairing with her laugh as the tempo rose again.

“You delicate young delicacy

You consummate hot consume

You grossly beautiful grocery

You exquisitely sweet cuisine~”

She reached behind her back as they looped around the table once again, jumping from chair to chair. Before Alastor could understand what happened a strawberry nailed him right between the eyes.

“I go hungry every night

But not this time around, not this time around!”

Charlotte quickly grabbed the falling fruit, stuffing it into his mouth before he had the mind to say anything else. 

“I'm gonna eat you, you're my desire

I'm gonna sharpen all my teeth and build a fire

I'm gonna eat you, cook and defeat you

I'm gonna breath you in my lungs and make you mine!”

On the final note she shoved him back into his seat, the music cut out and she stood in front of him, not a single hair out of place and a larger than life smile plastered on her face. 

He spat out the strawberry after a moment of silence, his face now matching the color of the discarded fruit. 

“Was that all a setup,” he exclaimed, clutching the chair comically.

Charlotte whipped her hair from side to side, muttering about old hobbies before straightening again, “Yes,” she answered bluntly, “payback,” she winked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have no idea what happened, join the club.


End file.
